So we went up to my folks’ again. This is the usual. My dad loves his turkey fryer, and so does everybody else. Including Cin’s work. She works for 911 and they do big potlucks for those working on holidays. So on Thanksgiving we get a turkey, fry it up, and bring it in.

I got to hang with my nieces and nephews. Had a bit of a jam session with my one niece. She’s just barely one and was rather pleased with banging on a toy drum. So I had to break out the guitar. Now bare in mind I can’t really play. I’ve learned the strings, I’ve learned some chords, and can sort of work my way through a few tabs. So what I really did was contribute to some noise making.

All in all, good times were had by all.



I dreamed of Josh last night. He wasn’t dead these past seven years, and we were hanging out. It was weird, to say the least.

Josh was a buddy from the time I started Kindergarten. We went to school from there on through graduation, Boy Scouts, and even for a time in a Methodist Youth Group together. He went into the Army straight out of High School. I would hear occasionally how he was in Germany, or somewhere else for a time. He became a helicopter mechanic, but after 9/11 and the subsequent invasion into Iraq he was promoted to a pilot.

There apparently was something faulty with his helicopter, which he had reported. He was still sent out with others and it went down. No terrorists. No insurgents. Just an enormous amount of “meh” from those higher ups until something actually went wrong, of course.

It was the same we week Cin took a test and it came positive. We were expecting number two (again, but that’s another post). “Emotional rollercoaster of a week” seems about right. As slightly alluded to, this was our third pregnancy, but would result in our second child. Anxiety moved in and set up a nice spot for itself everywhere. And it worked overtime. Every little thing that could be read wrong, was. But then it would look alright next doctor’s visit. Then the next would have some completely different test result… that would be within the acceptable ranges the following visit. It all came to a head when Cin was diagnosed with preeclampsia and our Beast got here a few weeks early.

I’ve held to the idea that Josh reincarnated via Sophie for some time. Part is due to time, which I’m sure lends itself to a way of dealing with the death of a friend. But frankly, she does some weird shit. Josh loved to skateboard, and she tried it at two. On something that wasn’t a skateboard. As mentioned, Josh piloted a helicopter. Sophie arranged a crash site with some toys, again around the age of two. There was as certain resistance to order and rules in Josh. He wasn’t a “bad kid” but he did like to cut up and joke around. Sophie has adamantly stated her dislike of All The Rules.

Still, the dream has me in a bit of an odd turn of mind this day, and I felt like sharing. Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a full night.

Mean Daddy

It’s true. Or so the Beast says. She’s not fond of this thing called “rules”. Nor is she fond of my enforcing them. Things like eating properly (sort of), and cleaning up (sort of).

So today my darling middle brat drew up a certificate and trophy. Here it is, in all its glory. (She’s rather proud of her burgeoning writing skills BTW).


I might have to have the “trophy” (the bit that looks like a medal) done up as a tattoo.

The Other Side Of The Coin

So there’s the whole notion of my being a daddy out there, the other half is that of being a husband. And I want to start with two things. 1- Things run a bit different in our house. She basically brings home the proverbial bacon, while make sure said bacon is properly cooked and served (and the do the dishes, laundry, etc.). And 2- I love my wife. I really, really do. She is amazing, wonderful, clever, fun, sexy, smart, wonderful and amazing.


There is one thing. She’s terrible at being a housewife. Not that she should be, but the simplest of things seems beyond her. Emptying the dishwasher. Restacking the dishwasher. At least putting dirty dishes in the sink. Taking out the trash. Putting stuff in the trash in the first place.

Shoes? Don’t get me started. Everywhere is a shoe rack. Middle of the floor. On the stairs. The bathroom. Bonus- sometimes you can keep one shoe in one place, and the other in a completely different room of the house! Hours of fun for all when it’s time to find the footwear!

Soon I will be back on days, and I will be able to get a better grip on things. It’s just really frustrating to come home and find two sinks overflowing with dishes, everybody’s dinner plate with the remnants of said dinner still sitting on the table, not to mention the couple of clothes hampers overflowing with dirty laundry. It’s like a fourth child, albeit one with a great rack.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cousin It.”

First off, this is just a neat idea. Thanks for that. Second, I’d have to say I’m the weird cousin. I extremely pro equality, and while I do have a cousin or two who are actually homosexual I do not have a criminal record. So that still has me as an oddity in the family.

I don’t go to church. Any of them. We used to attend a local Unitarian Universalist congregation, but that didn’t really do anything for me spiritually. While I generally have Pagan leanings, I’m lazy at that, too. I joke that I’m more of an Easter and Christmas Pagan…

I don’t vote Republican. That puts me at odds with the family at large as well. A quick way to start an argument is to bring up gun control, abortion, or gay rights on FB. If I have it to where I can see their feeds, I do comment my opinions and reasonings countering any (to me) offensive claims.

Again, thanks for the Daily Post thing. I hadn’t discovered it until now and I found it an interesting prompt for writings.

Color Crew

The Boy has fallen in love with this cartoon on Netflix. I’m personally torn.

On the one hand his already profound interesting art has gone just a wee bit crazy. He’s wanting to color all the time now. Crayons, markers, pencils. Doesn’t seem to matter as long as he can drag it across a piece of paper. Here’s hoping that he keeps up with that bit keeping it on the paper, and not like his sister who still has issues understanding that walls (and beds, and tables, and anything that stay in one place for more than forty five seconds…) are not coloring surfaces.

There is one thing I’ve quickly come to hate about Color Crew. That damned eraser. First off, this jerk is smug. With his glasses and handlebar mustache. But it gets better. He comes out when one of the crayons colors in the wrong thing. So he huffs and scolds, erases this so-called “wrong” color and then he gives this big shit eating grin. HELLO, there was an entire movement dedicated to coloring things “wrong”. Hate that guy.

And with that, I’m off to wrestle said Little Man into bed. He’s grumbling a bit of late, but he can’t resist the well established routine of night-night. Boom, victory for me.

New-New Job

Just got the call I’ve been waiting for all weekend. I have been offered a full time position at the school. I have gladly accepted. I’m not sure I can really express this happiness, but here goes.

See, for quite some time now I had worked part time at a local university. Dumb luck stumbled into the position. It was part time, and the schedule was relatively flexible. That was great in the beginning when I was a student, and it became even greater with arrival of children. It helped me be there to handle things while Cin was at work.

It was mentioned that allergies can eventually crop up from handling the animals. I thought I had seasonal allergies, but I’ve come to realize I had the allergies from the start. They finally got so bad that Cin woke me up one morning at 3 AM thanks to a distinct lack of breathing on my part. An inhaler later, and I’m informing my boss of a need to find something else. Much alas and sorrow, but I got a kick-ass reference all the same. Still email her, even.

I began filing resumes and applications with some of the local school districts. Before my rather lengthy break from college (still in it) I had amassed enough credits as well as a two year degree which qualifies me for substitute teaching and teacher’s assistant positions.

But I have no experience with doing such. Sure, I volunteered with the various age group youth at the UU church we used to go to, but that didn’t quite translate over. What did was the fact that I had essentially worked the Custodian Level One position for fourteen years. The lab required we do all our own in-house cleaning, to keep the number of different people coming in and out.

Hang with me, I getting to the end of all this. I landed a custodian position, part time. That was fine. It was in the evening, which was also fine until I realized I was seeing the Girls. I would drop them off at school in the morning, pick them up in the afternoon, and then have to head on to work. By the time I would get home they would be in bed. This sucked. Big Time.

But soon that will change. I will be back on days. I will see my Girls in the afternoon and once again be there to help with homework. Dinner. Baths and Bed. And Beyond.

One last thing, I think I’m using this the way most people use Twitter. From the counter just below I’ve used more words than they allow for mere characters. I think that sums up my issue with Twitter. Later!

School Drop Off (NSFW)

Every goddamn morning during the week it’s the same thing; drop the girls off at school. And every goddamn morning there’s at least five or six mouth-breathing abortions-that-should-have-been trying to jump the line by coming in from the wrong fucking direction.

If you can’t tell, this pissing me off. Immensely. I must have been British in another life as I seem to instinctively grasp the concept of queuing up properly (but apparently can’t spell it as I just had to enlist the aid of Spell Check).

I tend to pull a Clark Griswald and try to distract the girls while flipping these shitbag drivers the bird. I don’t so much care for their children learning rude hand gestures, they are already picking up atrocious driving habits.

In The Beginning

Before the Beginning there were several other attempts at this sort of thing. I think they suffered from a lack of follow through. Maybe a lack of focus. They were rather all over the place. I think my goal is to focus on the parent side of things in my life. There might be other snippets, but the primary goal here is to talk about the kids.

So to start I have three children; Maddie, Sophie, and Connor. Maddie is almost nine, Sophie is six, and Connor is two. We have recently moved into a much larger house so they all have their own bedroom, an interesting change for the girls.

I guess I will leave off there, the girls have school tomorrow and it is pushing past my bedtime as well. If there is a feature on here for anyone looking to message me please do so that maybe I will stick with this thing this go round.